


Don't You Mind

by InkStainsOnMyHands



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkStainsOnMyHands/pseuds/InkStainsOnMyHands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tadashi wished that it was rare to come home to a screaming child and a sobbing lover, but those desires were tragically far-fetched and for naught. </p><p>Sequel to "The Color of Jupiter".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Highly inspired by the song "Me" by The 1975. If you want to cry, I highly suggest you listen to it.
> 
> As always, if you find something that needs fixin' don't hesitate to inform me with a comment! :D

Tadashi wished that it was rare to come home to a screaming child and a sobbing lover, but those desires were tragically far-fetched and for naught. 

Tadashi opened the front door, and found the familiar sounds of his exaggeratingly difficult truth meet his ears. He dredged through the hallway, where pictures of perfect family moments lined the walls and reflected what seemed then to be a sweet lie. He felt his spirit sink further into the pit of dark despair he had dug for himself as he watched his brother struggle on the livingroom couch with their child. 

Hiro was the best parent he could be for being so young, so naive, and so emotionally fragile. Though his baby wailed so loudly that the sound reverberated throughout the entirety of their townhome, he rocked him gently in his arms and simply wept along side him, instead of allowing himself to call Aunt Cass for a rescue (though she offered a great many times). Tadashi approached the pair and offered to take their son from him, but Hiro only relinquished his fussing child after being gently coaxed into it. 

Takahiro didn’t stop his complaints; the comfort of his father’s arms provided the collicy baby little relief. Hiro gave a dark bubble of laughter before wiping the tears that settled underneath his bloodshot eyes. His hands swept over the dark, ugly circles painted just above his swollen cheeks. Tadashi wondered briefly if Hiro had spent the entirety of his day weeping. 

“He won’t stop,” Hiro sobbed. He ran a hand through his mussed dark locks. His almond-shaped eyes were blown wide, and he bared his gapped teeth in an upside-down grin. “He hasn’t stopped in weeks, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. God, I’m a horrible father.” 

“Hiro,” Tadashi called out as soothingly as he could, though he knew it would not have the desired effect. “I’ll take Taka to the garage, why don’t you take a nap?” 

Hiro wordlessly nodded. He rolled down the sleeves of his SFIT sweatshirt until they extended passed his hands. He used the blue material to wipe away the tears and mucus that remained on his face. Hiro gulped audibly, stood from the beige couch and walked the few paces to their bedroom. The door clicked quietly behind him. 

Tadashi took a deep breath. He rocked his screaming child as he walked him out of the living room, through the kitchen and out the garage door. 

The garage was more akin to a makeshift robotics laboratory than anything else. In between Hiro and Tadashi’s separate work spaces was a ratty loveseat, ancient television set propped onto a card table and an electronic keyboard Tadashi salvaged from the University's music department after they upgraded to better models. 

Tadashi plopped onto the couch. The air from his lungs escaped with a soft sigh. He looked down at his hiccuping child, who seemed to be losing steam for his crying. It didn't give Tadashi much hope; it was the same pattern every day. Takahiro would cry until he exhausted himself, but once he recouped his energy, he would continue on. 

Tadashi propped his son on his lap, keeping a steady hold on the baby’s upper body with his arm while using the other to reach for the keyboard. He turned it on and selected a pre-recorded percussion beat to play. During desperate times, it seemed like it was the only sound that would calm his son. True enough, Takahiro gurgled cheerfully at the sound. 

Tadashi felt himself smile, although the soft expression was hysterical. For the last month, the only thing keeping him from falling apart was the tiny fragile moments of peace that were interspaced throughout the dark cloud of misery that had befallen both Hamada brothers. Worse yet, guilt was a constant weight on their lungs. They loved their child, truly, but taking care of a sick baby was no easy task. Coupled with having a transitioning father who was still coming to terms with their ever-changing body, their baby was a difficult one to raise. 

At times, Tadashi felt as though he were taking care of two children instead of one. Hiro was highly volatile and just as likely to throw a tantrum as Takahiro was. It wasn't unexpected for how young he was, he was still going through puberty for God's sake, but a selfish part of Tadashi desperately wanted Hiro to simply grow up. 

Ugh! It isn't his fault, it isn't his fault, the mantra echoed throughout his brain. It really wasn't. Hiro had so many issues, maturity aside. Postpartum depression had hit the boy hard, and although his medication helped, there were still times that Hiro started just a little too hard at the sleeping pills they kept for their shared insomnia. 

An echo of ‘I nearly killed somebody’ bobbed along with the keyboard’s tune within Tadashi’s thoughts. 

That memory sparked another, then another, then another. It was a song with the same melody that the keyboard was playing. It was old, but the lyrics were bitterly fresh in his mind.

"I got a plane in the middle of the night, don't you mind~" Tadashi sang softly, as though he were bestowing his child with a morbid lullaby. "I nearly killed somebody, don't you mind don't you mind~" 

Tadashi felt his chest tighten; he knew it was the truth. His selfish, drunken actions had nearly cost Hiro his life on more than one occasion. It wasn't Hiro's fault, as his brain reminded him, because it was his. 

"I gave him something he can never give back, don't you mind~" Tadashi whispered under his breath. He felt his throat close and his tongue swell, but he continued on. "You've seen your face like a heart attack, don't you mind don't you mind~" 

Electric shocks of pain radiated from his heart to his stomach, settling there like a drowning stone."I was late but I arrived. I'm sorry but I'd rather be getting high than watching my family die~"

Tadashi closed his eyes against the onslaught of tears that threatened to spill. The lyrics hit far too close to home. While he didn't have a substance abuse problem, he did find himself overworking just to avoid coming home. He couldn't stand to see his life in such a disarray. Not for the first time did he chastise and point the finger at himself in regards to who truly needed to grow up. 

He looked down at his son, who stared back at him in wonderment, as though he were gazing into the universe. Despite the sob that lingered in the back of his throat, Tadashi couldn't contain an amused chuckle. "Exaggerate and you and I~" he cooed at his son before running a fingertip down the length of his nose, which was so like his own.

Takahiro laughed, and it was the most glorious sound he had ever heard. His son was his treasure, so precious and wonderful. He brought him such joy, which shone through the overbearing sorrow he felt at times. Tadashi wanted so badly to be deserving of fatherhood, of the title "Takahiro's Dad", but he would never be. The baby’s conception was already proof of that. 

"Oh I think I did something terrible to your body, don't you mind~" Tadashi continued on solemnly as every illness his son could possibly have due to his parentage ran through his head. 

Harsher still was the idea that he had hurt Hiro. He took his body and made it his own without regard to anything but his own desires, and in the process, he damaged him. His swollen breasts, scarred tummy and the stretched skin over his widened hips would forever be reminders of Tadashi's mistake. Each breakdown Hiro had when he looked in the mirror, and was shown proof that his flesh did not match his spirit, was because of his older brother. 

"I put your mother through hell, don't you mind, I hurt my brother as well, don't you mind, don't you mind~" Tadashi nearly sobbed.

"Oh I was thinking about killing myself, don't you mind~" It was a thought that plagued him often. How easy it would be, to end the pain, the guilt, the sorrow. He could never actually go through with it, though. Hiro needed him now more than ever, and he would be damned if Takahiro grew up without a father. "I love you, don't you mind don't you mind~"

To replicate the song as best he could, he pressed a button that played an accompanying saxophone in the background of the beat. It was soothing and heart shattering at the same time, but it seemed as though Takahiro enjoyed himself as the soft rhythm cradled him. He gurgled contently in his father's arm, wiggling along to the song. 

Tadashi felt the stirrings of a genuine smile. It would be the first since Takahiro became sick. In celebration, Tadashi reached out and stroked the keys of the electronic piano, attempting his best to recall how the song actually went. By his son's cheerful indications below him, he seemed to have done a decent job. 

"I put your mother through hell, don't you mind  
I hurt my brother as well, don't you mind, don't you mind  
Oh I was thinking about killing myself, don't you mind  
I love you, don't you mind don't you mind ~" 

\--- 

Takahiro didn't cry for the rest of the night, nor did he cry for the next several. As the months went by, crying became somewhat of a rare activity for the young boy. If he needed his parents' attention, he simply used his hands or an object to sound his displeasure through a series of bangs.

Hiro would laugh and laugh before attending to his needs, while Tadashi made jokes about his son's musical talent. Hiro would bemoan the idea of his son becoming a drummer, because as he put it, they never got any of the groupies. Tadashi would then quip back that it didn't matter as long as he was happy. 

Hiro would smile and say that Takahiro was already happy; they all were.


End file.
